Pandemonium
by AGDude
Summary: When the natural course of things is disrupted by the appearance of visitors from other worlds, the war for Gunsmoke escalates, and chaos is unleashed..... Begins animeverse, becomes AU. Includes crossovers with Hellsing, Outlaw Star, Gungrave, and more..
1. Doormat O' Sand

Disclaimer: I do not own Trigun or the other four series I have included in this oddity.

Beta Credits: Thanks to **ReadingWhiz89**, who is responsible for the title and numerous suggestions.

This is my first attempt at an anime fanfic, and a crossover at that, so please give me any suggestions you may have! Also, I would like to encourage reviewers to guess the series I have thrusted into Gunsmoke. Enjoy!

* * *

The night offered a sound beauty to the overburdened citizens of Inepril who were striving not only to maintain, but also improve the city. In the harsh, scorched deserts of the mad planet, the very fact that the community was even capable of elevation stirred the citizens to toil for the best. Not all places on Gunsmoke could say the same. 

Learning to harness any resource available was key to survival. However, the spark of hope that ignited the will of the people came in the form of a red-coated drifter dedicated to a cause that few in the forsaken land would recognize. His incredible talents instilled a great unity in the people.

The town mayor instated a new job soon after the hero arrived. It involved a form of scouting, recovering lost technology from amidst the old rubble left in the desert from the Great Fall. Several volunteered to join the search, but few possessed the technical savvy required to operate the old machines and determine what and how to salvage material.

"Hey, Lewis, what's in this room?"

Anything that looked important to desert riders was brought to the local evaluator. Upon careful examination, the appraiser would then offer a sum on behalf of the city government. This hardly ever came to a considerable amount of double dollars, so several reserved the activity for leisure riding instead of a full-time job.

"Eh, old finds, junk that really has no important use, but looks pretty and is in good shape. Some weird stuff in there too. I'll show you what I mean after we finish stock tonight."

At the end of the week, the gathered materials would be hauled to a facility on the outskirts of town for management. Though involvement with lost technology might sound fascinating, dealing with the vast amount of material soon became monotonous to workers. The low pay did not help either.

"Yeah Floyd, just put the box by the table. Alright, now we can call it a night. Come with me."

The muscular man had stayed long enough to adjust to the work load, and knew exactly where things went almost before the manager himself did. The younger, skinnier worker was just beginning to realize the pains it took just to work with the old parts.

"That should give the researchers coming in next Tuesday enough to work with."

"Really think they'll find a use for any of that stuff? Looked like junk to me."

"Well, they've had some interesting finds, but nothing revolutionary. You'd be surprised at what they can make out of a few nuts and bolts."

They went through the door into a hall, very narrow in comparison to the larger section of the warehouse. The pair arrived at a skinny door. Floyd attempted to contain his excitement.

"On to the reliquary," said Lewis as he unlocked the door, flipped the outside switch, and entered, followed cautiously by his young apprentice-of-sorts.

The two entered a fair-sized room, adorned with paintings, sculptures, and strange pieces that seemed to lack any apparent use. The room itself was a dull space contrasting the opulence of several recovered objects.

"I hear they had all sorts of stuff like these in places called museums. Bet that's where most of this came from."

"What about those?"

Lewis turned to face the area where Floyd pointed: a pile of large, odd containers.

"Ah those," he murmured as he approached the ordered stack.

"One of our smarter guys told me it was some sort of cryogenic storage device, but didn't have time to check it. Said it may have had the stuff installed for some reason. They look like coffins to me. Ornate, yeah, but still just coffins. That one on top is still a mystery to me. Check out the engraving."

For some reason, Floyd hesitated. Something warned against his approach. There was no apparent fear, just a strange feeling. The intangible warning gave in and his muscles resumed, guiding him toward the container.

"It's not like it'll bite you," chuckled Lewis.

Ignoring him, Floyd quickly identified the tiny plaque Lewis mentioned. Time had not been too kind, as the damage rendered it partially illegible. He touched the oddity, then began to gently pressure what he thought to be the lid. It moved slightly, then fell shut. He tried again for the same reaction. Then he began reading the inscription.

"The bi… mes… name, eating… ings to make… What the hell is this?"

Lewis burst into a laugh, greatly humored by seeing someone experience the exact same muddled puzzle he encountered.

"Hah, I love showing that to people. Always the same reaction."

Floyd turned and returned to the other side of the room, wading through some antiques.

"But Lu, that doesn't even make sense! What could it have said even if it was legible? Some nut had a weird idea for an epitaph…"

"Dunno, but there was another one like these. They sent it off for whatever they do. Hey, did I tell you about this one piece over here…"

The subject drifted into the mass of decorations, distracting the workers from the dark liquid-like substance oozing from the small crevice that had been left by the youthful worker. It gravitated to the center of the dimly lit room before rising to the shape of a tall figure.

"And you see, no one's been able to figure out what this…"

Lewis' explanation was arrested by his sight of the monstrosity. Sets of eyes began to form irregularly on the flowing black mass. It was evident the dark matter had targeted him, but Lewis' body was paralyzed entirely out of his overwhelming fear of the unnatural beast.

It did not take the assistant too long to find the source of his friend's terror. The sight of the hellish creature had a different effect though; shaking in the demon's presence, he drew his revolver and fired all six rounds into the morphing being. The creature did not take this hostile attitude too well. It reared slightly from the impact of the bullets, but then charged, bending abnormally before shooting at the ground near the attacker's legs. The ooze then launched at great velocity toward the stomach of his foe, driving him upward to the ceiling.

Lewis watched, still frozen as the mighty hell-spawn pillar literally devoured his aid. Frantically, he reached for his own pistol and began to unload into the flowing eye-laden void as it formed into what appeared to be a long-haired man wearing an obscure leather outfit. A glowing red eye peaked from the dirty, drooping hair, bursting with arcane power.

The fully-formed humanoid then struck with its serpentine limb, severing Lewis' gun-arm in a fatal blow, splattering the timeless artifacts nearby. The other destructive arm reared back before jetting into and through his chest, then lifting the impaled body the demon began to lick the blood slowly dripping to his shoulder. Once satisfied, the victor thrust his arm downward, irreverently forcing off the corpse and slamming it to the ground.

A satisfied grin spread across his face, clearly pleased with his work. The jagged, tensed muscles in his body relaxed, and the being took a step backwards in a very odd manner. The seals on the gloved hands began to glow, even burn as the leather suit liquefied, morphing into a Victorian outfit complete with a long red overcoat. It began to speak in low volume with a deep, confident voice.

"Well, it seems we are no longer in England… how interesting."

Amused with his newfound knowledge, the monster-turned-man faced back to the stack of coffins. An invisible force lifted his former resting-place and gently laid it aside. Tightly he gripped the lid of the next container, and steadily opened it, revealing a woman in a yellow guard outfit, possibly that of a private militia.

"Awaken, police girl!"

The long-cold body stirred, and barely mouthed a word, but did little more.

"Your master summons you."

The body moved again, this time more gently, and raised a hand to grip the outer rim of the lid, then repeated, this time audible:

"Master…"

Then the blonde-haired woman opened her eyes to find her caller and rose from the coffin. She stepped from her bed and began to focus, first seeing the one she called master, and behind him the slaughter. More alert, she began to inquire of the situation in a British accent.

"M-Master Alucard? What happened? Where are we?"

"Why don't you find out for yourself? The meal is still fresh."

She responded to the offer with a skewed look. Though her initial fear of feeding had long been dispelled, it was still sometimes an uneasy task, however pleasing to her cravings. Approaching the pierced, one-armed corpse, the vampire took note of the crimson ceiling.

"If you were going to kill them you could've been a bit cleaner you know."

"Just see how you handle your inevitable craving, Seras. When our kind lie dormant for too long they must recover not only their strength, but also satisfy their thirst."

Seras Victoria understood what he meant, as her gaze upon the bloodied corpse grew more intent, more fascinated. Without thinking she cleanly bit into the neck of the man, and began to drain the blood, staining her sharp canines. At the first drops of blood the true hunger began, transforming the pupils of her eyes from their natural blue color to a burning red, and quickly she sucked what remained of the corpse dry. Ending the task, Seras rose from the body and turned to face the smiling Alucard. Distant memories began to flow into her mind, not all of which she immediately understood. She gripped her head for a moment, trying to understand some of the biological data provided by the life force. For the moment she let it settle, and soon her eyes reverted to their former color.

"What about him?" she asked Alucard while pointing to the smear above.

"I'll take him," Alucard replied, in a nondescript tone.

"What, are you going to lick him off the roof?"

"Hmph."

The molecules in the stain began to vibrate, and soon coursed in a slow steady flow. It moved across to the nearby wall, slid down to the surface, and drew toward the vampire as though he were a vacuum. The blood pooled under his feet and finally became absorbed by the entity.

"Fancy. Why can't I do that?"

"Oh, you will, once you discover how to transcend your mortality and harness your 'gift'."

She had grown accustomed to this type of response when asking such questions. In a way she understood what he said, but again was not entirely satisfied with the answer.

"So I gather we're stuck on some other… desert… planet?"

"Indeed."

"And… we're far isolated from Earth, much less London?"

"Your visions are correct, Police Girl."

"And… Hey! What are YOU doing here!?"

"I am everywhere…" began the dog-eared newcomer with a content tone before feeling the old vampire's cold steel pressed against his forehead.

"…and nowhere."

* * *

It was a little-known fact that New Oregon's hospital facility was top-notch. The medical staff had years of experience, as well as several of the salvaged machines recovered in Inepril. In their endeavors, the team had dissected both the hardware and software of such devices, recorded a vast array of data regarding treatment, and was always involved in a side-project that would contribute to the patients and the research database. 

Their most recent success involved reviving a man who had been preserved from a time long before The Great Fall. Nothing was known of him other than the strange weaponry attached to his cryogenic chamber; some suggested it indicated he was some sort of warrior hero from long ago.

In any case, the researchers were astounded to find that the person did not operate in the same manner as most living humans. Although the body was far more durable than the average man's, it required certain biological enzymes and lubrications to remain functioning in one piece. The scientists believed a lack of this may have caused the disappearance of the subject's left hand. For this, a bionic replacement was attached to the body, and strangely enough integrated very well into the neural network.

For the first few days of monitoring him following the resurrection, no one could clearly understand what exactly the man was physically (despite bringing him back to life) or how he felt mentally. When questioned, he responded in a polite, yet weak manner. Soon the examiners had recorded enough information for the project, and decided it was time to move to another.

"So, you're leaving now?"

The tall, reborn man stood in the strange attire in which he had been discovered: the outfit was very unique in a black-red-and-white color scheme, and included a matching hat. The corresponding emblems adorning his suit were foreign.

"Yes, thank you for all you've done, Dr. Morgan."

It was, of course, a lie. Long ago, when last he was fully awake, he had been prepared to end his existence, to die alongside his old friend. After a long, difficult journey, his emotional instability had grown, his memories tormenting him at every turn. The battle had nearly ended so he could rest… but someone had decided otherwise. His silent discontent was aimed more at the ones who had preserved him; he could tell these kind doctors meant no ill, and could not come to admit his dissatisfaction after their hard work.

"Well, as you know, your weapons are still here, and I would suggest you take them on your way out. I don't know much about the old world you've come from, but here we have plenty of crime and violence. Even with your superhuman body, you may run into trouble. Some ammunition was found accompanying your equipment, but I'd suggest you take a trip to a small town west of here to stock up. You can find a gunsmith there. Remember what we've told you about Gunsmoke."

"How can I repay your services?"

"With the information we found in the process of your recovery. But if you still feel indebted, I would be interested in knowing your real name, Grave."

A dim smile appeared on the gunman's face as he headed to the doorway of his small hospital room, and stopped.

"There was a man once known as Brandon Heat. I am all that remains of that man."

Grave said little more as he checked out of the hospital.

* * *

A mere glance had told Vash more than he had wanted to know. The peaceful scene had been interrupted by this newcomer, and his intimidating appearance was more than enough to negate his innocence. 

Upon the blue-haired man's right shoulder was mounted a grand white pauldron, and sticking from it an odd semi-circle of iron spikes. The other sported a chap-less skull tightly secured onto his white suit. He took a seat near the outlaw as he established a telepathic link. Before opening a mental conversation the man took a generous bite from his fresh hotdog.

'_I finally found you, Vash the Stampede.'_

'_What? Who are you?'_

'_Legato. Legato Bluesummers.'_

'_What do you want from me?'_

'_Your life.'_

He paused a moment before continuing.

'_Perhaps that was a bit too dramatic. Actually I'm here as a messenger. That's right. I've come here to warn you. I'm afraid your life is going to end… today.'_

'_What?'_

'_Do you think I'm lying to you?'_

Following his question, the poor girl who had rejected Vash's offer to play earlier returned, strangely drawn to the daunting man. Legato offered his second frank to the child and began to stroke her hair.

'_I haven't given you a gift yet have I?'_

And then, for a moment, Vash's mind somehow deceived him. In a slight instant, he heard the hand take an iron grasp, and violently wretch the head backwards. With a gasp, he turned to see the psychic man's hands raised to demonstrate his innocence, and then the girl left, giggling contentedly.

'_Heh, your reaction was better than I had hoped. You're fun. And to think I could kill every man, woman, and child here in the blink of an eye if I wanted to… the power of death is intoxicating.'_

Vash's expression had grown quickly from a surprised fear to a seething anger as the sweat became clearer on his forehead. He turned to face the man, but Legato still faced away from his subject.

'_Don't be in so much of a hurry. You still have a little time left. Or…perhaps you don't. And don't worry, no one else needs to get hurt. So do you want to draw?'_

Finally Legato turned the side of his face where Vash could take note of his one visible eye, a piercing golden hue. The humanoid typhoon did all he could to restrain himself.

'_A wise choice. And oh, I almost forgot; this is a little farewell gift. It contains a lesson from me. I'll just leave it here.'_

Legato left the hotdog bag as he walked from the square. As he disappeared a woman came running in panic, and screamed the murder of her husband, the shoemaker. Almost before the gunman realized what had passed, a voice sounded.

"Yes sir, that was the man!"

One quick hand grasped Vash's shoulder and soon following the other, while another pair applied the handcuffs.

"Hey, what's the big deal?"

"Don't act innocent, we have a plenty a' witnesses that'll testify. Yer' goin' to the joint, troublemaker!"

The outlaw's eyes widened as he realized he had been framed.

* * *

"_Hey! I finally found you. I've been looking for you for a whole week!"_

_A heavy dust storm blew outside the Belding's Shoe Store. No one could be seen out on the streets; every town dweller had instinctively taken shelter in their homes or the town taverns. _

"_I was told that you're rarely open 'cuz you sell other stuff. Well, besides boots I mean. Who knew?"_

_The red-coated customer gave a slight chuckle. The owner wasn't very amused, but perhaps his ill-spirit could be contributed to the poor weather. It certainly did not impact the shopper's mind._

"_Hey, sonny, you sure like to talk a lot. I hope you like to talk about boots for your sake."_

_The young-looking gunslinger leaned back, closing his eyes in a nervous manner as he responded._

"_I do, heh heh, but there's something else I want to know. I'll abide by your rules, I won't make any trouble. Come on, what do you say?"  
_

* * *

His expression then became exceptionally cold. In front of him, the insurance agents attempted to persuade the sheriff of his innocence, but to no avail. His concern, however, was not for his binding position, but rather for the "warning" the blue-haired man had delivered.

* * *

Somewhere far away, a rental ship cruised through space, the passengers completely unaware of the danger they would soon encounter. 

"Hey, you agreed to come on this trip! Don't start with me!"

The brown-cloaked redhead had become as irate as he was impatient. With repairs on his prized ship long overdue and unnatural exhaustion afflciting the majority of his crew, Gene Starwind and his catlike friend had set off to track bounties and… possibly pleasure-cruise. Gene found it funny how he had once been sick of space travel, yet now enjoyed it over land more than ever. His recent journeys had done much to awaken his spirit of adventure.

"Just because that was such a BORING place! Any longer in that prison of a city and I would have SNAPPED!"

Gene had initiated yet another argument with a crew member. As captain, it could be argued that his skill in flight and combat outweighed his recklessness, but he still quarreled with anyone who would challenge him, and generally with little persuasive power. The matter was of little importance, and became completely meaningless when Gene noticed a familiar spaceship fly by.

"Wait, shut up."

"HEY!"

"I think I see that cargo ship from the ad, this'll be easy money!"

Aisha's anger simmered to doubt as she grabbed the thin electronic monitor. Holding it to the ship's window, she scrolled through the list of recent bounties, and discovered that for once Gene was correct. The device recorded a visual and confirmed the identity. The two-man crew hurried to their battle-stations, Gene instinctively piloting as Aisha's trigger finger screamed for the main gun.

"Target acquired!"

The odd little combat ship nicknamed GX3 (Hell if Gene knew why) was vastly inferior to the Outlaw Star, especially for a two-man crew. The speed was a painful joke, the cannon a weak pea-shooter compared to competitors, and the pathetic list of features out-stank even the lowest consumer standard.

"Alright, I'm going to push this hunk o' junk as hard as I can, be ready to fire when you come in range!"

Just as the armed ship came within that range, the bounty sped off at a much greater rate. The ctarl-ctarl failed to land a clean shot, and gave a growl of disapproval.

"Damn! I was afraid we'd have trouble with speed. I'll follow it. Aisha, keep your guard up!"

The fleeing vessel tried all manner of cutting turns, but Gene matched them with even more brilliant maneuvers, pushing the bulky mass to its absolute limit. It did not take much to outrun the GX3, but dealing with the persistence of the pilot was another matter entirely. Bend after bend and still the ship remained in pursuit. The smuggler considered how to use his superior spacecraft to his advantage over a game of chase. Soon enough, the opportunity arose.

"Well, are you even going to try to hit it?"

"Stay still for a second, and I'll get a shot off! WAIT! NO, NOT HERE!"

It was too late. Gene had fallen into a clever trap laid by his target, and had been led to a strange phenomenon he did not immediately recognize.

"What the hell is that thing? Some sort of space hole?!"

"I don't know, but you better do something Gene! It's pulling us in!"

In a flash, the oddity had swallowed them and violently spit them out into unidentified territory with great force. The phenomenon had been rumored to be a connection to separate time and space, though the portal's specific destination was impossible to predict.

The entire event happened in no time at all, much unlike what either Gene or Aisha had expected. When Gene could finally take control of the ship while unhindered by the turbulence or blinding light, his immediate concern was for the desert planet that began to draw him in.

"Shit, we're already too close to its gravitational field. Looks like we have to land here."

Gene's prediction was correct; the ship plummeted toward the greedy world as he aligned the angle of descent with the surface. A quick warning then flashed on the main control panel.

"What? Landing system inoperable?! WHAT THE HELL?!"

* * *

And in an entirely different realm came an entirely different struggle. In the grand terrible halls of a robotic metropolis reeking of the dull scent of oil, coolants, and other such lubricants, a mechanical squadron of peacekeepers dragged a body to an interrogation room. Following was their malevolent leader, a massive dictator sporting a vile bionic left arm, the dark steel laden with a set of keys corresponding to the functions of his armored suit, a dark red and black armor forged not simply for protection, but also the intimidation of his enemies. 

The iron-fisted monolith of a man had led a dark path of betrayals in order to achieve his notoriety, and soon he would take a vital step to insuring that no man, army, or force of nature would disrupt his reign.

Finally, the group arrived at a doorway in the dimly-lit hall. One of the steel humanoids slammed the switch to activate the slide door. Slowly the shutter rose.

Deep in the terrible city's inner sanctum this room featured all manner of torturous equipment and sadistic devices reserved for experimental purposes. None of the machines, however, would match the fiendish reputation of the evil doctor's patent cyborg-maker. Those unfortunate enough to be selected for the cruel process became mindless drones, puppets of the warlord.

The red-haired teenager appeared to have been handled roughly by the assault squadron. The blue vest, cloak, and boots contrasted slightly with the dull iron surroundings despite being dirtied in her arrest. The dark orange battle-suit was hardly visible, making it a viable stealth option. Apparently the equipment failed to protect the wearer from the detection of a metal adversary, as demonstrated by the earlier skirmish.

"Dear nephew, do the bio-signs confirm her genetics?" asked the deep, distorted voice of the commander. He was met with a nasally answer.

"Yes sir, you are correct. This is indeed the daughter of Maximilian. She is the royal heir."

"Was, nephew, was."

The monstrous villain snapped his steel fingers, a signal to strap the dazed body to the hated machine.

"Now she will become my servant, and her ridiculous charade of a liberation organization will be eradicated."

Sensing the body secured on the chair by metallic restraints, the machine began to come to life, calculating the best method of converting flesh to machine. The high pitched electronic sound of the spinning blood-stained utensils finally awakened the sleeper, who immediately registered her predicament. The blue eyes focused, searching for any possibility of escape. There seemed to be none, and hope faded… before she identified a familiar blade mounted against the circuitry of the wall…

* * *

SHORT VERSION (for sheer amusement): 

-player lewis66 enters the arena-

-player fl0yd enters the arena-

lewis66: lol loot

fl0yd: omg coffinz!11

lewis66: lol they dead noob

-player -HS-nolifeking enters the arena-

-HS-nolifeking: no u dead noob

-player fl0yd has been eliminated-

lewis66: wtf h4x!

-player lewis66 has been eliminated-

-player -HS-policegirl enters the arena-

-HS-nolifeking: sup

-HS-policegirl: wut map is tihs?

-player -1000-dogboy enters the arena-

-1000-dogboy: lol speedhax

--------------

-player m0rg4n enters the arena-

-player BTG enters the arena-

BTG: thx for rez

--------------

-player LUVnPIECE enters the arena-

-player GHGL3g0 enters the arena-

-GHG-L3g0: ima pwn j00.

LUVnPIECE: …

-player -GHG-L3g0 exits the arena-

-player LUVnPIECE has been kicked for team-killing-

--------------

-player ST4RW1ND enters the arena-

-player -cc-catchick enters the arena-

ST4RW1ND: coo free kill : D

-cc-catchick--: w00t!

ST4RW1ND: WTF DIALUP!?!?!

--------------

-player 1\/0 enters the arena-

-player shorty enters the arena-

-player -HoA-Sal enters the arena-

1\/0: you ma bish now

shorty: lol

--------------

* * *

Thank you for tolerating my insanity if you made it this far. Be sure to check out my homepage for information, pics, and other cool stuff relating to this fanfic (and also my experimental gmod comic)! 

And a note: The last series is a stretch, but look to the parody for more clues on its origin.


	2. The Hunt Begins

**Notes**: Sorry about the chapter taking so long... just had a lot of delays. Anyway, yes, I have included Hellsing and Outlaw Star on this crazy crossover trip. The other anime/game series shouldn't be too hard to guess, but I'd be surprised if anyone can hit the strangest one I threw in... I dropped a few names and clues to make it a little easier guess. Also featured in this chapter is the first OC. There will be plenty more too, but don't worry, chances are few will survive the difficult struggles ahead...

Again, credits to **ReadingWhiz89** for helping me perfect this insanity (beta work). Enjoy the show!

* * *

In the nemesis' enthusiasm, a certain hint of precision had slipped from his brilliant mind. His metal servants had performed excellently with superior upgrades to software, telling the golems exactly how and what to hunt, timing with great accuracy, and executing their actions without fail. The error then came from the human side. The great doctor had forgotten to thoroughly inspect his captive before strapping her to the machine.

She had barely enough room to reach into the pocket of her blue vest and subtly grasp the small computing device that had long served her. Luckily, the tool had been upgraded with a high-intensity laser designed for such tight situations. In a quick series of three highly-concentrated blasts (close and powerful enough to singe through small bits of her suit) the captive broke her bonds, and sprung from the doomed seat as a long metal needle slammed into the blood-stained operating chair.

As the escapee dashed for the blade, she heard the electric humanoids' metal flaps retract sharply, followed by a distinct "whir"-like sound. Quickly she grasped the hilt of the artifact, planted her foot against the wall, and with all her strength tore the prize from its resting place.

Compared to the energy of her minor utility, the beams with which the robots were armed appeared terrifying. If not for the arcane powers embedded in the sword, the wielder would have been reduced to a charred corpse. However, this was not the case, as the blade managed to reflect the incoming fire toward the adjacent walls, leaving large holes and fried circuits.

"Oh, what do you expect to do with your father's toy?"

She remained silent under pressure and inched away across the damaged wall, still facing her enemy. The magnitude of the blasts had discharged the squadron's weapons; it would be precious seconds before they could become threats once more. The bald giant snapped his fingers, almost a telepathic signal to the lead machine. It ran out, reaching for the escapee, before having its arm quickly severed, and iron head removed in a flash.

_I… I am not this powerful..._

_Indeed, but I am._

What?

The foreign voice was drowned by the commanding fiend's exclamation.

"Ha! You expect to fight your way out with _that_?! Do you realize how deep we are in MY city?!"

"Why do you have this?"

The situation seemed to merely amuse the villain. He laughed harshly under his sadistic smirk before replying.

"After I exiled your father, I discovered your petty heirloom. It seemed appropriate to mount that precisely where his sad little zealots could see… just before they learned to serve their new master and realize the futility of resistance."

"Sick…"

"Oh don't worry, princess, it is not nearly as painful as it looks. I could, however, make it FAR more troublesome for your defiant attitude. Perhaps you should submit now-"

"Never!"

A look of impatience flashed across the dictator's face. The wretch and her fellow fighters had done exceptionally well in orchestrating a variety of terrorist acts to halt his progress. It was coming time to deal a fatal blow to the liberation organization, and this would certainly be an excellent time to take action. But then he noticed something, and his twisted smile resurfaced once more.

"Hmm, well no matter. AHEM!"

His small assistant responded accordingly, running to a huge panel to pull a switch just over half his size. A massive shutter flew down, separating the girl from the mad doctor.

"If you do not wish to willingly aid me, then I can find another use for you. An experiment maybe? Yes… that will do nicely."

He paced parallel to the shutter, hands loosely joined behind his back.

"You see, this contraption with which I used to… put your father into a separate reality, if you will, has undergone some adjustments. You may notice that lovely blue emerald embedded in the frame behind you."

Horrified, the trapped heroine turned to face the portal, the mystic invention fused of sorcery and technology, the black void responsible for sealing her family. It looked even more hellish than she recalled.

"Of course, it is what you may guess. With such an unwieldy power source, it is hard to say where exactly it will lead. From a few test runs there is a high probability the material will be sent to a… far-away location. Much farther than this planet—most likely into a vacuum of space. I could be wrong though, as the original machine was not intended to be used in conjunction with the gem. No matter, it will get rid of you. Of course, there is only one disadvantage I can see with the option you chose; unlike the roboticizer, I won't be able to hear you scream."

His victim gritted teeth and clenched her sword as he punched a few keys on his mechanized arm, remotely activating his "experiment".

The actual vacuum was far greater than the dark genius could have anticipated. In an instant, the girl was sucked into the void, followed by several objects lying in the vicinity of the portal. Most of the smaller items in the room at least gravitated toward the device, if not slammed against the iron bars protecting it. Even some of his robotic servants a bit too close the effective radius began to slide toward the grate. It did not take long to enter the deactivation code.

Neither did it take very long to notice the empty socket in the enclosed machine. As soon as the chaos subsided, the look of accomplishment degenerated into that of a sour taste. He walked to his nephew, still clutching the switch in fear of the void. He grasped the collar of his assistant and ripped him from his grasp.

"Snivley, how firmly did you secure the emerald?"

"As tightly as it would go sir!"

"Well apparently that WASN'T ENOUGH!"

Snivley was then tossed aside quite mildly compared to the boss' usual fits. This time it was perhaps eased by the sweet quality of his revenge.

"With the emerald, it is possible she could return should her body not be torn apart by time or space."

"Even without your brilliant machine sir?"

"Unfortunately, yes. One merely needs a mediator for the energy to reverse the portal. Of course that would be assuming that rat would survive and find the gem and means of using it, all of very unlikely probability. Wouldn't you agree?"

* * *

"NO WAY! It can't take THAT long to repair this pathetic ship!"

Gene nodded as Aisha shook in fury at their dilemma. The hunt had definitely taken a turn for the worse, and Gene could barely conceal his own frustration over the escaped bounty. Most of the GX3 was severely damaged, but fortunately the rental agency had provided a good few repair bots in case of such hazards. These spider-like mechanisms were programmed to survey damage and equipped with retinal scanners, welding devices, and other such gadgets for recovery. Gene had hesitated in his purchase of these robots (the new technology was a bit pricey, but surprisingly affordable), but now he was more than glad he had done so.

The two were so preoccupied with the ship that they had barely done more than glance at the surrounding desert. The area seemed a bit dead anyway, and the ship's vital indicator had been trashed in the fall. Some of the more base software on the ship was still operating, and did in fact indicate the planet's environment could support life to a certain degree.

"You'll just have to be patient. I can get this bucket-of-bolts off the ground and find some civilized planet, but it will take time. I have no idea how fast these things operate, but if it's anything like the old man said, we may be here for a while."

"Well, perhaps we should go find SOMEONE to help us, numbskull!"

"Out here? In the middle of nowhere? Yeah, sure..."

"I'd rather try than sit in here all day!"

Suffice to say, Aisha was not the type to sit around all day. Neither was Gene, but his willingness to get off the ground drove him to focus. The sooner the ship was back in order the sooner they could get back to the rest of the crew. Perhaps if they were lucky, the enigmatic gate they had passed through would still be operational by the time they could leave.

"Well, I'm not stopping you."

"WHAT?!"

"You heard me, if you want to risk getting eaten by some sand-creature go ahead. It'll make my job quieter."

"Oooooh, you will pay for that Gene! When I get back with a crew to help us lift off, you will be in MY debt. See ya!"

The ctarl-ctarl left in a fury, mumbling as she stalked off into the bleak desert. Meanwhile, Gene walked to the small interior storage room of the GX3, and attempted to activate one of the few repair bots. Under the metal frame, he discovered a small silver switch.

"Well, I'll give it a shot."

He pulled the tiny piece of metal. Almost immediately, uncontrolled, free electric currents sprang from the spider-bot, coming dangerously close to shocking the space traveler. Gene backed away quickly.

"Ah!"

The motor, or whatever powered the metallic creature, began to whir in a manner unlike any sort of machine Gene had heard before. Suddenly the sound died along with the flashy light show, and dark smoke began to emit from the anomaly. A look of distaste struck Gene.

"Crap, this is gonna' be harder than I thought…"

* * *

Walking through the desert did little to calm the disorder raging through Grave's mind. His rest was merely a dream to be broken by the dusty disturbed planet. And now that he was awake, he had no reason to act, nothing to protect, nothing to accomplish. His war was over, and his continued existence remained, in his opinion, fruitless.

He blinked, his thought broken by the appearance of a small town on the horizon. It was in his path, and as he came upon it, his first impression was that of order. The scene appeared to be that of a typical western television show he may have watched as a youth. Many wore cowboy hats, carried revolvers on their hips, walked briskly to their destinations, and greeted each other with country accents. Outside a couple saloons, Grave spotted a few card-players.

But something was not quite right. People said little other than "howdy" or the like. Mothers herded children inside in a quick manner, and not out of fear for Grave's intimidating appearance. Despite his slightly outlandish colors, very few seemed surprised by him, something he did not expect. No one even seemed bothered by the massive, puzzling coffin-shaped weapon slung over his shoulder. He found an unarmed gentleman passing by him.

"Hello."

"Hullo chap."

"Could you direct me to the gunsmith in this town, sir?"

The man pointed to a small shop on the corner of the intersecting street.

"Thanks."

"No problem, stranger."

Grave felt as though he had missed some major event. Or perhaps this was the calm before the storm.

* * *

The legendary gunman found himself in the dusty interior of the town's jail. His hands bound in chains, he did little other than think of the blue-haired man's intent. Eyeing the bright moons outside the small window of his cell, he allowed the cryptic words to echo in his mind:

'_It's a little farewell gift. I'll just leave it here… I'm afraid your life is going to end, today.'_

A terrible thought sprang from Vash's most painful of memories.

_Is he after the sixty billion double-dollars? No… Is it him?!_

The prisoner's heart wrenched and throat dried instantly at the realization. The abnormal sunlight, the crimson stain on the desk, and finally the smell of smoking debris coming from the rubble all resurfaced to haunt the gunman. As the past reminders of the ruined city returned, the door to his dark chamber slowly opened. It seemed the night brought visitors.

"Um, Mr. Vash?"

The insurance agents were received with a demonic visage contradicting everything they had believed about their new friend. Millie stumbled back frightened, bumping into her coworker. Meryl tried to ignore what she had just seen.

"Oh hi, is everything alright here?"

"Oh, it's just you."

Vash had quickly reverted back to the caring soul they knew. Perhaps the monster the girls briefly witnessed was merely a hallucination, or flash of illness from the situation.

"Vash… I'm so sorry about all of this but will you please stay here just for today? We'll come for you tomorrow, I promise."

"That's nice, thank you, but don't go out of your way for me, okay?"

"As far as I know, you're innocent and haven't done anything wrong."

"I need some time to think right now."

He averted his attention to the ground and offered a quaint smile that only faintly concealed his chaotic state. Millie then approached the barrier enclosing Vash with a concerned expression.

"Um… hey Mr. Vash?"

"Yes?"

He kindly turned to Millie.

"Actually… actually it's nothing!"

Laughing nervously she discarded her question. Uncertain what Millie meant to imply, Meryl turned to face her coworker and criticized her odd behavior.

"What does THAT mean Millie?!"

"Actually it means nothing!"

Her hands clasped her head in an uneasy manner. Before Meryl had a chance to embarrass her friend any more a series of loud "thumps" sounded nearby. It did little to disturb Millie, but Meryl took note, as did Vash.

"What? What was that?"

A strangle cocking noise confirmed Vash's fears.

"GET DOWN!"

* * *

Grave had not expected the shop to carry the exact ammunition he required, but he was pleasantly surprised. Then again, it may not have been too odd that this Gunsmoke took great care in weapon diversity. Perhaps the wasteland did not encourage people to work together to pool resources, but instead made them fight over what little was there.

It had turned to night rather quickly; perhaps that was just the way of this new world. People still acted with the reserved, yet polite, silence displayed at his arrival. Only now, there appeared to be more people walking about. Maybe night was the time of leisure here.

The newcomer's contemplation was interrupted by the sound of gunfire. The noise was like that of a machine gun, or a similar weapon. Grave walked briskly toward the location where he believed the shots were fired, and spotted smoke coming from a building. He continued to approach cautiously, and saw for a brief moment an armed man spring out, followed by a much larger man in a purple suit and odd cylindrical arm-cannons. The backpack device looked entirely foreign to Grave, but he was almost certain that man had fired the shots earlier.

After mumbling something (Grave barely made out his mouth moving), he ran in pursuit of his prey. He did not wish to play vigilante, but he could not help but be interested in what exactly was unfolding. Grave began to trail the giant, not too concerned whether or not he knew of his presence; he seemed too focused on his target anyway.

The blond-haired man fleeing was armed with a silver revolver, but did not fire back. Instead he seemed to purposely ward people out of his way while avoiding the automatic rounds. Finally, the chase ended as the pursuer stopped in the middle of a street. It was apparent he was sick of running with the giant contraption on his back.

"Still helping others at a time like this? You are weak... if you have any expectations of staying alive you better use them as a shield! And don't worry, it all be over soon anyway."

His target was not in his sights, but he still looked ready to attack. The strange back device rotated, proving Grave's hypothesis that it somehow redirected a new belt of ammo to the cylindrical machine-guns.

"NOW'S THE END OF VASH THE STAMPEDE! You and this town die TOGETHER!"

Now Grave could justify in intervention—the matter now was one of self-defense. In an instant, he showed himself, and three heavy rounds pumped from the Cerberus aimed at the top barrels of the giant's left cylinder. Smoke and sparks came from the partly broken device, and the giant's hell-bent expression was soon wracked with frustration.

"Who the hell are you?!"

He had drawn his cannon to his chest as a shield and means to prevent more disrupted barrels. Grave replied merely with a cold look. Then he took aim and fired once more toward the big man's leg. A splatter of blood stained the ground and the purple suit.

"Grah! Damn you!"

The shot had the opposite effect than what Grave anticipated. The man ignored the painful jolt in his leg and began to charge toward him at an incredible pace, utilizing the broken cannon as a shield from fire. Grave barely caught a glimpse of his angry face before the metal cylinder slammed into him, sending him and his coffin into the nearby building. Taking him for dead, the aggressor took aim, destroying the other structures surrounding him with his fully-operating right arm-cannon, catching several civilians in the crossfire.

Grave could only hear and see part of this from the ruined pile of debris that covered him. There was little he could do now, and thought it best to play dead while he tried to piece together his intentions. Not long after the dust settled, he heard a sinister laugh.

"I did it! I did it! So much for the legendary outlaw! He was nothing! He died like a coward! At last, at last I'm free! Now I can live the way I want to live!"

He continued to laugh, until he was interrupted by gunfire. The bullets hit his helmet directly- if not for that small barrier he would have been dead. Grave could barely make out the silhouette, but believed it was the man he was pursuing earlier. One more shot fired, but the giant dodged it with a massive leap, scaling the building behind him despite the wounded leg- an incredible feat.

Though he was aware the red-coated man was nearby and had returned fire at last, he did not hear him move from his spot. The only sound Grave could make out was the distant shuffling of feet, as though someone was helping an injured person.

"Mr. Vash..." said a soft voice.

The name did not sound common, but he thought he may have seen it on a few posters back in New Oregon. The red-coated man could very well have been an infamous outlaw by the incredible aim, speed, and power of his revolver.

"Stay back!"

Finally Grave could hear his voice distinctly, and noted the alarm in the tone.

"Stay away from me."

Then he heard a slow steady pacing; the gunman seemed to be walking away from the scene. Grave was unsure whether he was leaving to pursue the hunter or flee to find his own strategy for dealing with the man in the purple-suit. What Grave did know was his uncomfortable position had grown far more irritating as lying under the rubble began to stress his superhuman body.

Slowly he began to rise from the landing spot, shards of the former construction pouring from the greater debris above him. Soon, the heavier ruins fell mercifully from his shoulders to the ground, and he heard the gasps of two women who had witnessed his recovery as the dust began to kick about his eyes. Fortunately, his body had not sustained any damage heavy enough to cause a problem. The only signs of trouble could be seen in a couple tears in his elaborate suit, and even those were minor.

"Uh uh… um….. Are you okay mister?"

Grave tipped his hat and gave a slight nod, appreciative of the brunette lady's concern for his health. A bit of dust slid out of the concave region of the cowboy-style hat. He was more interested in the gunman who had just left.

"That man… is he a friend of yours?"

The two hesitated for a minute, most likely still intrigued at his rapid recovery.

"Well… we know Mr. Vash… but he is not quite himself right now."

Despite the surrounding corpses, Milly offered a weak smile wrapped in the same nervous feeling she had earlier. Though uncertain what she meant, Grave replied with his own smile, and his usual soft tone.

"Will you two be okay?"

"We probably should be asking you that question, Mr…"

"Grave."

A strange look crossed Meryl's face before she continued.

"…Grave. How did you survive all that without even a small scratch?"

He could see that the blue-haired woman who spoke to him was not only concerned, but exhausted as well. Grave could see the fresh bruise on her face.

"I am sorry, but I must be going."

And so Grave began to approach the other side of town, carrying his coffin and Cerberus, aware of the two girls who stared as he walked away.

* * *

Minutes passed as Grave searched the streets for signs of either combatant earlier. Now that he was involved, he wanted to know what was going on, or maybe even conclude the matter. When he heard machinegun fire behind him, he realized the two had found each other.

This time the rounds sounded different. Turning, he could see that now the purple-suited villain was sporting a massive (almost ridiculously so) machinegun, and firing into the town bank. Then in a brief instant, Grave caught the sight of a massive metal safe-door shooting out from the building. The wheel collided with the gunner, throwing him off balance, and launching the door into the air.

In two more quick flashes while the door was still airborne, Grave saw the gun's metal frame come apart. Soon the reason for this malfunction revealed himself; the red-coated gunman had been riding the wheel.

"You have no more bullets, coward!"

Then Grave learned the reason for the gun's incredible size—it also functioned as a rocket launcher. What happened next, though, was even more astonishing. At the instant the giant fired, this "Vash" as his friends called him, had produced another gun—this one attached to his arm (or more precisely _was_ his arm). In a single shot he neutralized the rocket, and knocked the giant over, causing him to lose both his gun and helmet in the process.

In a twist of events the hunter became the hunted, the prey became the predator, and ultimately the legendary Vash the Stampede finally lost his patience.

* * *

"You will pay… You will pay for this!"

"They're dead. People are dead."

The night once illuminated by the gunfire of the combatants was still and deceptive. What Monev once believed to be a weak, simple target approached him in the form of the Diablo. Fear gripped him for the second time that night, but now he lacked the means to slay the demon that approached. His tongue defied his mind's state.

"Who the hell cares?"

His question was answered immediately with a punishing kick to the exposed face. Again the Gale was struck down. The outlaw then quickly thrust his lethal appendage to the eye of his fallen foe.

"You killed all the people! You killed them all!"

The giant merely responded with a weak, guttural whine.

"And you were the one solely responsible for all their deaths… Now you are also going to DIE!"

"Don't kill me! Please don't kill me! I'm sorry… I don't wanna' die!"

* * *

It greatly surprised Grave that the red-coated man took mercy on the giant. The Goliath was spared, at least for now, anyway.

Almost suddenly light was restored to the small town; Grave would still have to adjust to the new day/night system of the planet. The rising sun glinted off the metal barrel of the man's integrated weapon as he walked back to the crowd. He stopped to say something briefly to the fallen warrior, then continued to approach the crowd. Passing the girls, he stopped in front of Grave, and raised his head with a smile, radically altering his mood.

"Thank you for trying to help back there. I hope you're okay."

A look of disappointment crossed his face. He had not been able to protect the townspeople. Even his honed skills were not enough to fully stop the chaos that would persist in this new world. But when this man had been able to corner the foe, he had not punished him with more than the sensation of fear. If Grave, or any of his old friends, had had the chance, the assassin would have been executed. Was it safe to allow the bested fighter to walk? Something in the way the purple-suited fiend left the town told Grave he would never return.

"So, are you Vash?"

"Yes," replied a weak voice.

Sweat began to bead on the gunman's forehead. Thinking back, his face did look quite similar to a few flyers he saw as he left the hospital. The man really was an outlaw. Grave held out his hand.

"You can call me Grave. Traveling?"

The sly smile and wink Grave offered was enough to tell Vash he was very aware of his status. He gave a slight nod.

"That's a… strange name mister."

"I am unfamiliar with these parts, and would appreciate it if I could join you on a trip to a bigger city. Meet me in front of the saloon tomorrow morning. I am sure your… friends would feel safer with an extra gun."

Meryl's forehead began to twitch as she turned the strange man, filled with a strange expression between surprise and mild anger.

"Do you mean to imply something Mr. Grave?"

The man carrying the giant… thing on his back gave a slight chuckle before he turned to head back away from the battle scene.

"I will see you tomorrow," he said as he left.

Millie retained a smile through the encounter.

"Well, he seems like a nice person."

"What are you talking about Millie? He has to be after the bounty! I bet that weird thing on his back is some sort of weapon. We can't trust him! Can we Vash? Vash…?"

Vash shook his head.

"When I was fighting Monev, I noticed he was following us around. He had many opportunities to attack me, but did not take them. Unless he is planning to fight me tomorrow…"

* * *

"Whaz zat even necessary? You know zat hurts."

His thick German accent marked his frustration, rubbing the spot where he had been shot mere moments before.

The red-clad vampire merely grinned in response to what appeared to be a dog-eared boy. Seras was not entirely comfortable with the company of her former enemy.

"Why did they even send you with us?"

"How should I know?" Schrődinger replied with a shrug.

"Our war is over… for now… we should be more concerned with finding out where we are."

The night seemed to be going quickly. The group hurried through the desert, in search of the nearest town before sunlight came. There they could learn more of their environment and regain their strength. Seras seemed anxious. She had spent some time in sunlight since her transformation, but it had weakened her greatly. And what of this planet's sun? What if even Alucard would struggle under its power?

"Don't think such rot. If anything it will be a mere bother to our kind."

"What?!"

In the long desert trip the old immortal had begun to find pleasure in reading and responding to Seras' thoughts, and in the process confusing the "boy".

"Are you sure of that master? From what we learned weren't there two?"

"Yes, but realize that our potential has grown in our slumber, though we may be hungry now. A couple balls of hot air will do little to stall us.

"Ah, the sun."

The werewolf finally caught on. Then he saw something far away.

"See that? It looks like a hint of civilization."

Alucard paused.

"Yes. It seems we may have a few more bites to drink before the end of the night."

Seras cleared her throat, realizing that from then on there would be no more chilled packs of anonymous medical blood. She would have to feed from human victims, living or dead, guilty or innocent.

"Do not let it bother you police girl. There are ways of letting your meal live."

He gave a small laugh as they approached the town, the dawn breaking with their arrival.

* * *

Even they did not detect the stranger observing them from afar in great detail. The purple-robed figure focused to track their movements and sounds. His hands were posed tensely as he meditated, drawing forth the greatest of his arcane potential to both sense presence and mask his own.

The tension left him as they entered the town. Muscles relaxed, and the young-looking man drew a sigh of relief. Then a grin formed between his unique braided locks of long black hair. The grin grew to an open smile as it stretched across his face, and soon he burst into sudden, haunting laughter.

"Wonderful…" he muttered as he twisted his hands to form puzzling yet precise gestures.

A tiny rift ripped in midair before him, tearing at the seams of reality to establish an otherworldly portal. It expanded, and began to form the image of a cruel, cold face with dark messy hair. It began to speak with a piercing expression, demanding respect and authority.

"Give me your report agent."

The voice was deep and sounded even more distorted than usual. The spell-weaver was aware his boss was short on patience.

"The trigger has awoken, and one of the three is here, just like you said. In fact, I feel the second has just arrived as well."

"Good work. But I would recommend keeping your distance from the trigger. Your powers are nothing compared to his. Remember you are merely an amateur right now."

The summoner's eyes narrowed, but in his mind he knew this was true.

"Remember, you have been called here to make sure the operation runs smoothly, not to involve yourself. Only intervene should it save the mission. Also, remember you are only a mercenary; you will have to prove yourself to earn a place in our ranks, Gulukai."

"I understand sir."

"Then proceed with your mission. Contact me again when you feel a progress report is necessary."

The rift closed itself, sewing back the edges of the forsaken realm. Silently, the sorcerer followed the group to town, but dared not take the same path.

* * *

Hope you liked it! I'll get to work on Chapter 3 as soon as I can. 


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